


Och hoppets stråle går igenom världen

by chrislink



Series: To You Alone [3]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:21:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrislink/pseuds/chrislink
Summary: Unlike the girls, Isak hasn’t made it easy for him – when does he ever – flat out refusing to take any part in this “bullshit Christmas shit”.Sometimes, he feels like he needs to wash that boy’s mouth with Noora’s leftover lavender soap.Linn, Eskild and Isak spend their first Christmas Eve together. A one-shot taking place two years before To Ease Your Worry.
Series: To You Alone [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830808
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	Och hoppets stråle går igenom världen

Let it be known that Christmas isn’t Isak Valtersen’s favourite holiday. He doesn’t hate it with a passion, doesn’t wait for every occasion to remind everyone around him that it’s become more a commercial moment, a symbol of all consuming capitalism the way Jonas does every time someone mentions it. He simply wishes people would stop flaunting their affected merriment in his face. He was nine the last time he celebrated Christmas with his family, his sister and father still lived with him and his mum. He’d gotten a science kit that kept him enthralled for months on end. And less than six months later his sister left home with a quick hug and meaningless words of comfort; Isak shoved his Christmas present under his bed and never touched it again.

Let it also be known that Linn does not care for Christmas. What little she’d had of a family had never really enjoyed the celebration, too distant from each other to cherish festive gatherings, wishes and gifts exchanges. Of course, that changed when she moved to the Kollektiv, because Christmas is one of their traditions that she makes an effort to follow. She knows how much it means to Eskild.

Eskild loves Christmas. Adores it really, maybe more than what is reasonable. Then again, he’s never been the most reasonable person. To be fair, he thinks to himself as he’s putting the final touches to the dinner he roped Isak into helping him make, he’s had so many shit Christmases after he came out and subsequently got thrown out on the street by his family that the universe owes him a few great ones. And he works hard for those, too. Starts putting up decoration on the very first day of December, looks up ideas for meals, keeps an eye out for potential presents and most of all, tries to get his reluctant flatmates into a festive mood, which is no small accomplishment.

Noora used to be easy enough, although she did make a point of pursing her lips quite a lot at what she called his most “extravagant ideas”. And okay, maybe a few of them involved a lot more innuendos and nakedness than strictly necessary, but he still believes that going around singing Christmas carols in his naughty elf costume would have been exceptionally hilarious. Linn had just shrugged, expecting nothing less from him, bless her patient soul.

She doesn’t mind going along with his plans, usually, and just lets him be. On the other hand, getting her to actually participate is like pulling teeth.

Isak is a whole different matter. This year is special: it’s the first time that the little gremlin is spending the holiday at the Kollektiv. It’s just the three of them now, Noora having moved to greener and musclier pastures – and he wishes she had come spent this Christmas here with them and her eye candy of a boyfriend, but that is neither here nor there.

Unlike the girls, Isak hasn’t made it easy for him – when does he ever – flat out refusing to take any part in this “bullshit Christmas shit”.

Sometimes, he feels like he needs to wash that boy’s mouth with Noora’s leftover lavender soap.

For all his blond curls and angel face, he has to be the grumpiest, most stubborn overgrown teenager Eskild has ever met and he’s definitely the literal Grinch in disguise. In the end though, he’s no match for Eskild’s never ending optimism and overflowing Christmas spirit. He probably figures it’s best to go with if he wants to avoid an eternity of nagging. And, yeah, fair enough.

So he helped Eskild pick up and decorate their Christmas tree – complaining all the way about how stupid of an idea it was, there was no way it would fit in their living room, that he wouldn’t be the one cleaning all the needles the tree was bound to leave everywhere. Eskild just smiled brightly and talked his ear off about his previous Christmases with Noora and Linn.

He knows it’s not personal, knows Isak doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, despite his ignorant and insensitive comments at times.

  
  


When he first moved in with them two years ago, Eskild immediately realised that it wouldn’t be smooth sailing – not that Noora was ever a saint. He found it hard to connect with the younger man, faced with the daunting task of finding common ground with someone seemingly so keen on putting every possible barrier between them. He likes to think that his kindness and patience and limitless positive energy are what won Isak over in the end. Of course, what happened to him at Nissen played a large part in his finally opening up to his two flatmates, showing a softer, more gentle side. Still, as his self appointed guru, Eskild thinks he deserves some of the credit.

He doesn’t tell Linn he’s making an extra special effort this year to make sure their younger flatmate has the best Christmas possible with them, after the awful two years he’s just had. She doesn’t says anything, she sees right through him, always has.

Today though, Isak is quiet as he helps him make the Christmas dinner to end all Christmas dinners. He doesn’t protest as Eskild asks him to make the purée while he checks on the meat, roasted close to perfection. It had actually been a surprise to find out that his young protégé could cook, at first. It does make a little sense, now that he thinks about it. Isak has had to fend for himself for a long time, and ready-meals can only take you so far.

The lack of grumbling on the other hand is slightly worrying. He’s been mostly silent for the past couple of days, has stopped criticizing the decorations Eskild keeps adding up – which is to be expected, really, because their apartment looks nothing short of magical. Not overloaded with gaudy, colourful baubles and garlands, but a tasteful arrangement of almost natural looking lights and wooden trinkets. It has never stopped the young brat from making snarky before, so something must have changed.

And Eskild is nothing if not persistent – and desperately curious. It’s in his genes or something. He knows Isak by now, knows he tends to keep his problems to himself, and wishes he wouldn’t. Glancing at Linn provides no indication whatsoever as to the course of action he should take. If she noticed something – which he wouldn’t put past her – she’s certainly not showing it, passively staring at music clips playing on their TV.

These two have an odd relationship. Linn didn’t care for their new roommate when she met him, didn’t have the patient for his teenage woes, boyish false confidence and surly comments. Now though, he doesn’t bat an eye whenever he finds the both of them cuddling on the couch in front of the telly, cocooned in a silent bubble of their own. It’s not something he can pretend to begin to understand, doesn’t want to be more overbearing than he already is by grilling Linn about her newfound friendship. He supposes she too found common ground with the little troll.

On his left, Isak is carefully mixing the purée, body drawn tightly, his eyes not diverting from the task at hand.

He chases the brief, selfish thought that this Christmas Eve dinner is going to be terrible if he doesn’t manage to pull the young man out of whatever funk he’s going through. The last time Isak bottled up his feelings, the inevitable explosion had been devastating, and he can see they’re heading that way again.

So Eskild puts on his best smile, and gets to work.

  
  


He’s failing. Spectacularly. He’s failing so much he thinks his picture out to be next to the definition of failure in the dictionary. That has never happened to him. Not in recent years, at least, he mentally amends. Dinner is good. Dinner is fantastic. The food is delicious, the lamb is tender, cooked to perfection and the _purée_ might be one of the tastiest things he’s ever had in his mouth. Of course, the thought brings images to his mind that he promptly ignores. There is such a thing as a time and a place.

Heavy snowfall is hiding the world away, building a small, universe of warmth, mouth-watering smells, soft Christmas songs and gentle golden glow.

The alcohol is pleasantly softening the edges of his mind, making him more comfortable than he has been in a while. He’s made sure his hair looks perfect, he’s wearing his favourite red shirt and dark jeans and, most importantly, his Christmas hat.

Linn actually participates a little, smiles and jokes with him. Hums happily at the delicious food, compliments them both and offers to do the dishes – and that’s a bloody Christmas miracle right there.

Yet, Isak, in his nice dark blue dress shirt, is growing more miserable by the second. His head is hanging low as he silently munches on his food, his slightly too-long hair not quite hiding the lines on his forehead and the downturn of his lips. He catches him playing with his phone under the table a few times and refrains from nagging him about manners. But his patiences is wearing thin. _O Helga Natt_ plays on the radio, and he sees him clench his jaw, face stone cold.

By the time they finish the Yule Log Linn got them, his irritation his growing beyond manageable levels. While Linn does the dishes, Isak sits still, eyes low, playing on his stupid phone, and Eskild has had enough.

The atmosphere in the apartment has gone from cheerful to tense in less than an hour and what was supposed to be the best Christmas Eve in the whole of Norway (at the very least), is turning out to be a shitty night.

“Are you seriously going to ignore us for the rest of the evening, Isak? Because you’re seriously ruining our evening.”

He prides himself in controlling the anger in his voice instead of snapping like he really wants to. Isak’s eyes whip up to his and he takes a little savage pleasure in seeing the shocked expression on his flatmate’s face.

“I’m not doing anything,” counters the younger man mulishly. For all the growing up he’s been doing lately, he can really be a pain sometimes.

Eskild snorts.

“Clearly. I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but thanks for being such a joy to be around tonight.”

He feels a little guilty when he sees the flash of hurt on Isak’s face, doesn’t have time to react. The young man is up in less than a second, pushes his chair brusquely and stomps away with a muttered “fuck this”. His bedroom door doesn’t quite slam behind him but it’s a near thing.

Silence falls and drowns the room. Linn has stopped moving, a plate in her hand, she stares unseeingly at the wall in front of her.

Eskild gulps a few times, busies his shaking hands with a napkin. He goes to her and they finish the washing with exchanging a single word. She washes, he dries, just like they did when it was just the two of them. When things were simpler.

They settle on the couch, bicker a little about which movie to watch. Eskild really wants to put _T_ _he Holiday_ , Linn wants to watch _Rise of the Guardians_ , which makes no sense to him. They settle for some Netflix movie neither of them has seen.

He tries to joke, he does. Tries a little harder, laughs a little louder, smiles a little more. A little desperate.

An hour later, and he can’t tell what the movie is about. He’s watching bright coloured shapes moving on the screen, hears sounds of voices and music, but has no idea what is happening. He’s almost certain Linn doesn’t either.

He sighs, pauses the movie.

“I should talk to him,” he finally says.

Linn looks at him. She’s sitting across the couch, her back resting across the armrest, her feet propped up on his legs. The bright red oversized Christmas jumper she’s wearing making her look both softer and younger than usual. She nods at him, not exactly smiling, but with something he can’t decipher in her expression.

He gets up with a long suffering sigh, and goes to knock softly on Isak’s door. The response he gets is exactly the one he expected: silence. Part of him is tempted to let it go, lest he makes things worse. But he figures Christmas Eve is already pretty ruined as it is, he might as well.

Quietly pushing the door open, he’s greeted by the sight of his flatmate lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, mobile phone clutched against his chest.

Isak sits up in a sudden movement but isn’t quick enough wiping his eyes. Eskild sees the wait trails on his cheeks and something painful coils tightly around his chest.

“What do you want?” spits Isak, the aggression belied by the trembling of his voice.

It’s not often Eskild finds himself speechless. He likes to think he always knows what to say, even when he probably should keep quiet. It’s one of his many talents. But the sight is achingly familiar.

At a loss for words, he ignores the question and goes to sit next to the young man who is now looking away from him. He wants to come up with a joke about the lack of Christmas decoration in the room, but keeps quiet, stares at Isak’s profile, the gentle slope of his squishy nose, the graceful shape of his lips. Sometimes he forgets he’s barely out of high school. He’s only turned nineteen six months ago but there’s a weariness about him tonight, a burden weighing down his shoulders, make him look both younger and older at the same time. He looks almost exactly the same as he did back then, when it all went to hell.

“Baby J, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing! I’m fine!” retorts Isak.

He still doesn’t look at him, eyes stubbornly fixed on his damned phone. Desperately wanting to poke and prod, but feeling the younger man almost physically close on himself. So he stays like this, lost, debating whether he should give up, when the bed dips behind him. Linn is crawling up to them and rests her head on Isak’s back.

It’s almost like watching a brick wall crumbling. He feels a shudder go through Isak’s body next to his, sees him sag, the tension going out at last. Fresh tears roll silently on pale cheeks.

Eskild’s throat closes up. It’s the second time he sees his flatmate break down, and he doesn’t think it’s a sight he can ever bear.

“It’s mamma,” the young man finally whispers. “She’s not well.”

He reacts on pure instinct then. Doesn’t say anything. The words won’t come, and they would be meaningless if they did. He wraps his arms around him – and Linn – and pulls them tightly against him. Isak’s head finds the crook of his neck and rests there, tears damping his shirt as he talks in a broken voice.

“She’s at the clinic right now. They had to… She wasn’t… She was… And I didn’t… I’m not even with her. I’m never with her. I never call. And now she’s there, and she’s alone.”

He doesn’t sob, not quite. His breath comes out ragged and his voice trembles, his whole body does, and the misery and pain pour out of him in torrents that threaten to break Eskild’s heart. He hugs him tighter, hears the words Isak doesn’t say, hears the guilt, the shame, the self loathing. And he worries.

He knows Isak is going to some sort of therapy for what happened last year – though it doesn’t seem to be doing him any good – and has sleeping pills for his insomnia. But something tells him that this goes deeper than high school bullying and online harassment. Isak has shared very little about his home life prior to moving in the Kollektiv, save for that drunken rambling when they met and a few hints here and there over the years. Eskild knows enough to understand that Marianne Valtersen’s condition requires medication and close medical attention, knows the Isak’s father isn’t very deserving of the title – or that of husband. Isak doesn’t talk about his family very often and seemingly has very rare contacts with his mother.

Eskild’s own history clearly doesn’t make him the best guru in this situation.

Looking at Linn, still half draped over Isak’s back, he realises that perhaps this is not what Isak needs tonight. He disentangles himself very gently and kneels before his roommate, brings a kind hand to his face.

“Come cuddle with us, Baby J. We’ve got you.”

  
  


So they do. Eskild makes them hot chocolate, the one he bought especially for the occasion, with cinnamon and cookies. The tree of them snuggle on the couch, Isak’s head on Linn’s lap, his legs across Eskild’s. Linn his gently treading her fingers through soft curls and Isak, despite his puffy eyes, looks almost content.

They watch _The Snowman_ , because Isak used to watch it as a kid with his mother, and it brings a few more silent tears, but he smiled through it. Then they’re watching _Rise of the Guardians_. Eskild figures Linn might be a genius, it’s only fair. He enjoys the film, he thinks, but he enjoys watching Isak and Linn more, they look like family.

It has stopped snowing outside, Oslo rolling itself up in a fluffy blanket of silent white and silvery blue.

They fall asleep like this, a mess of tangled limbs in the dim lights of their Christmas tree, next to boxes containing a bathrobe and fluffy slippers for Eskild, a new pair of gloves and jumper for Linn and a new shirt and a hoodie for Isak.

In the morning they’ll smile and hug some more. Eskild will laugh fondly at Linn’s deadpan stare and Isak’s shy giggle. They’ll have a long heart to heart over breakfast and then invite Eva and the girls over.

Now, they’re something new. Not a family yet, but on their way there, with their newly adopted little brother. Nothing is solved, because there’s no Christmas miracle, not really. In a few days from, Eskild and Linn will go with Isak to visit his mamma, and things will get better, and life will go on.

And yet, maybe there is a thing to that night, a little magic in this moment out of time as Eskild snores slightly, his arm around Isak’s chest.

Isak turns in his sleep, catches a mouthful of Linn’s hair. And dreams, dreams. Dreams.

  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to finish editing chapter 3 of I Don't Know If You Know. Instead I spent hours writing this, hours editing it (for such a shot story, it required A LOT of editing, and I'm only very moderately pleased with the end result, but it's 2 in the morning, so yeah), and hours debating whether I should post it or not. 
> 
> I wanted to write something Christmas-y, because why not, had about 500 hundred words of a fairy tale like alternate universe, and ended up with this. Of course. 
> 
> This takes place two years before To Ease Your Worries, so it's completely independant in a way. Also, there's no Even in it, sorry. He's having a tense Christmas Eve with Sonja and her parents. He'll be in the next one.
> 
> Merry Christmas and all that jazz.


End file.
